 Book III. CHAPTER II of Armadale Neely entered the room carrying the tray with the tea, the dry toast, and the pad of butter which composed the invalid's invariable breakfast. What does this mean? asked Mrs. Milroy, speaking and looking as she might have spoken and looked if the wrong servant had come into the room. Neely put the tray down on the bedside table. I thought I should like to bring you up breakfast, mama, for once in a way. She replied, and I asked Rachel to let me. Come here, said Mrs. Milroy, and wish me good morning. Neely obeyed, and as she stooped to kiss her mother, Mrs. Milroy caught her by the arm and turned her roughly to the light. There were plain signs of disturbance and distress in her daughter's face. A deadly thrill of terror ran through Mrs. Milroy on the instant. She suspected that the opening of the letter had been discovered by Ms. Guilt, and that the nurse was keeping out of the way in consequence. Let me go, mama, said Neely, shrieking under her mother's grasp. You hurt me. Tell me why you were brought up my breakfast this morning, persistent, Mrs. Milroy. I have told you, mama. You have not. You have made an excuse. I can see it in your face. Come. What is it? Neely's resolution gave way before her mother's. She looked aside uneasily at the things in the tray. I've been vexed, she said, with an effort, and I didn't want to stop in the breakfast room. I wanted to come up here and speak to you. Vext, who is vexed to? What has happened? Has Ms. Guilt anything to do with it? Neely looked round again at her mother in sudden curiosity and alarm. Mama, she said, you read my thoughts. I declare you frightened me. It was, Ms. Guilt. Before Mrs. Milroy could say a word more on her side, the door opened, and the nurse looked in. Have you got what you want? She asked, as composedly as usual. Miss, there, insisted on taking your tray up this morning. Has she broken anything? Go to the window. I want to speak to Rachel, said Mrs. Milroy. As soon as her daughter's back was turned, she beckoned eagerly to the nurse. Anything wrong, she asked in a whisper. Do you think she suspects us? The nurse turned away with her hard, sneering smile. I told you it should be done, she said, and it has been done. She hasn't the ghost of a suspicion. I waited in the room and I saw her take up the letter and open it. Mrs. Milroy drew a deep breath of relief. Thank you, she said, loud enough for her daughter to hear. I want nothing more. The nurse withdrew, and nearly came back from the window. Mrs. Milroy took her by the hand, and looked at her more attentively and more kindly than usual. Her daughter interested her that morning, for her daughter had something to say on the subject of Miss Guilt. I used to think that you promised to be pretty, child, she said, cautiously resuming the interrupted conversation in the least direct way. But you don't seem to be keeping your promise. You looked out of health and out of spirits. What does the matter with you? If there had been any sympathy between mother and child, nearly might have owned the truth. She might have said frankly, I am looking ill because my life is miserable. I am fond of Mr. Armadil, and Mr. Armadil was once fond of me. We had one little disagreement, only one, in which I was to blame. I wanted to tell him so at the time, and I wanted to tell him so ever since. And Miss Guilt stands between us and prevents me. She has made us like strangers. She has altered him and taken him away from me. He doesn't look at me as he did. He doesn't speak to me as he did. He is never alone with me as he used to be. I can't say a word to him that I long to say, and I can't write to him for it would look as if I wanted to get him back. It is all over between me and Mr. Armadil, and it is that woman's fault. There is ill blood between Miss Guilt and me, the whole day long. And say what I may, and do what I may. She always gets the better of me, and always puts me in the wrong. Everything I saw at Thorpe Ambrose pleased me. Everything I did at Thorpe Ambrose made me happy before she came. Nothing pleases me, and nothing makes me happy now. If Neely had ever been accustomed to ask her mother's advice, and to trust herself to her mother's love, she might have said words as these. As it was, the tears came into her eyes, and she hung her head in silence. Come, said Mrs. Milroy, beginning to lose patience. You have something to say to me about Miss Guilt. What is it? Neely forced back her tears, and made an effort to answer. She aggravates me beyond endurance, mama. I can't bear her. I shall do something Neely stopped, and stamped her foot angrily on the floor. I shall throw something at her head if we go on much longer like this. I should have thrown something this morning if I hadn't left the room. Oh, do speak to Papa about it. Do find out some reason for sending her away. I'll go to school. I'll do anything in the world to get rid of Miss Guilt. To get rid of Miss Guilt, at those words, at the echo from her daughter's lips, of the dominant desire kept secret in her own heart, Mrs. Milroy slowly raised herself in bed. What did it mean? Was the help she wanted coming from the very last of all quarters in which she could have thought for looking for it? Why do you want to get rid of Miss Guilt? She asked. What have you to complain of? Nothing, said Neely. That's the aggravation of it. Miss Guilt won't let me have anything to complain of. She is perfectly detestable. She is driving me mad. And she is the pink of propriety at all the time. I daresay it's wrong, but I don't care. I hate her. Mrs. Milroy's eyes questioned her daughter's face as they had never questioned it yet. There was something under the surface. Evidently, something which might be of vital importance to her own purpose to discover, which had not risen into view. She went on probing her way deeper and deeper into Neely's mind, with a warmer and warmer interest in Neely's secret. Pour me out a cup of tea, she said, and don't excite yourself, my dear. Why do you speak to me about this? Why don't you speak to your father? I have tried to speak to Papa, said Neely, but it's no use. He is too good to know what a wretch she is. She is always on her best behavior with him. She is always contriving to be useful to him. I can't make him understand why I dislike Miss Guilt. I can't make you understand. I only understand myself. She tried to pour out the tea and in trying upset the cup. I'll go downstairs again, exclaimed Neely with a burst of tears. I'm not fit for anything. I can't even pour a cup of tea. Mrs. Milroy seized her hand and stopped her. Trifling as it was, Neely's reference to the relations between the major and Miss Guilt had roused her mother's ready jealousy. The restraints which Mrs. Milroy had laid on herself thus far vanished in a moment. Vanished even in the presence of a girl of sixteen, and that girl her own child. Wait here, she said eagerly. You have come to the right place and the right person. Go on abusing Miss Guilt. I like to hear you. I hate her too. You, Mama, exclaimed Neely, looking at her mother in astonishment? For a moment Mrs. Milroy hesitated before she said more. Some last left instinct of her married life in its earlier and happy time pleaded hard with her to respect the youth and the sex of her child. But jealousy respects nothing. In the heaven above or on earth beneath, nothing but itself. The slow fire of self-torment, burning night and day in the miserable woman's breast, flashed its deadly light into her eyes as the next words dropped slowly and venomously from her lips. If you had had eyes in your head, you would never have gone to your father, she said. Your father has reasons of his own for hearing nothing that you can say or that anybody can say against Miss Guilt. Many girls at Neely's age would have failed to see the meaning hidden under those words. It was the daughter's misfortune, in this instance, to have had experience enough of the mother to understand her. Neely started back from the bedside, with her face in a glow. Mama, she said, you were talking horribly. Papa is the best and dearest and kindest. I won't hear it. I won't hear it. Mrs. Milroy's fierce temper broke out in an instant, broke out all the more violently from her feeling herself in spite of herself to have been in the wrong. You impudent little fool, she retorted furiously, do you think I want you to remind me of what I owe your father? Am I to learn how to speak of your father and how to think of your father and how to love and honor your father from a forward little minx like you? I was finally disappointed, I can tell you, when you were born. I wished for a boy, you impudent little hussy. If you ever find a man who is full enough to marry you, he will be a lucky man if you only love him half as well, a quarter as well, a hundred thousandth part as well as I loved your father. Ah, you can cry when it's too late. You can come creeping back to beg your mother's pardon after you have insulted her. You little, dowdy, half-grown creature. I was handsomer than you will ever be when I married your father. I would have gone through fire and water to serve your father. If he had asked me to cut off one of my arms, I would have done it. I would have done it to please him. She turned suddenly with her face to the wall, forgetting your daughter, forgetting her husband, forgetting everything but the torturing remembrance of her lost beauty. My arms, she repeated to herself faintly, what arms I had when I was young. She snatched up the sleeve of her dressing-grown furtively with a shutter. Oh, look at it now! Look at it now! Neely fell on her knees at the bedside and hit her face. In sheer despair of finding comfort and help anywhere else, she had cast herself impulsively on her mother's mercy. And this was how it had ended. Oh, Mama, she pleaded. You know I didn't mean to offend you. I couldn't help it when you spoke so of my father. Oh, do, do forgive me. Mrs. Millroy turned again on her pillow and looked at her daughter vacantly. Forgive you? She repeated with her mind still in the past, groping its way back darkly to the present. I beg your pardon, Mama. I beg your pardon on my knees. I am so unhappy. I do want a little kindness. Won't you forgive me? Wait a little. Rejoined Miss Millroy. Ah, she said, after an interval. Now I know. Forgive you. Yes, I'll forgive you on one condition. She lifted Neely's head and looked her searchingly in the face. Tell me why you hate Miss Guilt. You have a reason of your own for hating her, and you haven't confessed it yet. Neely's head dropped again. The burning color that was hiding by hiding her face showed itself on her neck. Her mother saw it and gave her time. Tell me, reiterated Mrs. Millroy more gently. Why do you hate her? The answer came reluctantly, a word at a time, in fragments. Because she is trying, trying what? Trying to make somebody who's much, much what? Much, much too young for her. Marry her? Yes, Mama. Breathlessly interested, Mrs. Millroy leaned forward, entwined her hand caressingly in her daughter's hair. Who is it, Neely? She asked in a whisper. You will never see I told you, Mama. Never. Who is it? Mr. Armadale. Mrs. Millroy leaned back on her pillow in dead silence. The plain betrayal of her daughter's first love by her daughter's own lips, which would have absorbed the whole attention of other mothers, failed to occupy her for a moment. Her jealousy, distorting all things to fit its own conclusions, was busyed in distorting what she had just heard. A blind, she thought, which has deceived my girl. It doesn't deceive me. Is Miss Guilt likely to succeed? She asked aloud. Does Mr. Armadale show any sort of interest in her? Neely looked up at her mother for the first time. The hardest part of the confession was now over. She had revealed the truth about Miss Guilt, and she had openly mentioned Alan's name. He shows the most unaccountable interest, she said. It's impossible to understand. It's downright infatuation. I haven't patience to talk about it. How do you come to be Mr. Armadale's secrets, inquired Mrs. Milroy? Has he informed you of all the people in the world of his interest in Miss Guilt? Me, exclaimed Neely indignantly. It's quite bad enough that he should have told Papa. At the reappearance of the major in the narrative, Mrs. Milroy's interest in the conversation rose to its climax. She raised herself again from the pillow. Get a chair, she said. Sit down, child, and tell me all about it. Every word, mind, every word. I can only tell you, Mama, what Papa told me. When? Saturday. I went in with Papa's lunch to the workshop, and he said, I have just had a visit from Mr. Armadale, and I want to give you a caution while I think of it. I didn't see anything, Mama. I only waited. Papa went on, and told me that Mr. Armadale had been speaking to him on the subject of Miss Guilt, and that he had been asking a question about her, which nobody in his position had a right to ask. Papa said he had been obliged, good-humoredly, to warn Mr. Armadale to be a little more delicate and a little more careful next time. I didn't feel much interest in Mama, and it didn't matter to me what Mr. Armadale said or did. Why should I care about it? Never mind yourself, interposed Mrs. Milroy sharply. Go on with what your father said. What was he doing when he was talking about Miss Guilt? How did he look? Much as usual, Mama. He was walking up and down the workshop, and I took his arm and walked up and down with him. I don't care what you were doing, said Mrs. Milroy more and more irritably. Did your father tell you what Mr. Armadale's question was, or did he not? Yes, Mama. He said Mr. Armadale began by mentioning that he was very much interested in Miss Guilt, and he then went on to ask whether Papa could tell him anything about her family misfortunes. What? cried Mrs. Milroy. The word burst from her almost in a scream, and the white enamel on her face cracked in all directions. Mr. Armadale said that. She went on, leaning out further and further over the side of the bed. Neely started up and tried to put her mother back on the pillow. Mama, she exclaimed, Are you in pain? Are you ill? You frightened me. Nothing, nothing, nothing, said Mrs. Milroy. She was too violently agitated to make any other than the commonest of excuses. Miners are bad this morning. Don't notice it. I'll try the other side of the pillow. Go on, go on. I'm listening, though I'm not looking at you. She turned her face to the wall, and clinched her trembling hands convulsively beneath her bedclothes. I've got her, she whispered to herself under her breath. I've got her at last. I'm afraid I've been talking too much, said Neely. I'm afraid I've been stopping here too long. Shall I go downstairs, Mama, and come back later in the day? Go on, repeated Mrs. Milroy mechanically. What did your father say next? Anything more about Mr. Armadale? Nothing more except how Papa answered him, Neely replied. Papa repeated his own words when he told me about it. He said, in the absence of any confidence volunteered by the lady herself, Mr. Armadale, all I know or wish to know, and you must excuse me for saying all anyone else need know or wish to know, is that Ms. Guilt gave me a perfectly satisfactory reference before she entered my house. Severe, Mama, wasn't it? I don't pity him in the least. He richly deserved it. The next thing was Papa's caution to me. He told me to check Mr. Armadale's curiosity if he applied to me next, as if he was likely to apply to me, and as if I should listen to him if he did. That's all, Mama. You won't suppose, will you, that I have told you this because I want to hinder Mr. Armadale from marrying Ms. Guilt? Let him marry her, if he pleases. I don't care, said Neely in a voice that faltered a little, and with a face which was hardly composed enough to be in perfect harmony with the declaration of indifference. All I want is to be relieved from the misery of having Ms. Guilt for my governess. I'd rather go to school. I should like to go to school. My mind's quite changed about all that, only I haven't the heart to tell Papa. I don't know what's come to me. I don't seem to have heart enough for anything now, and when Papa takes me on his knee in the evening and says, let's have a talk, Neely, he makes me cry. Would you mind breaking it to a Mama that I've changed my mind and I want to go to school? The tears rose thickly in her eyes, and she failed to see that her mother never even turned fellow to look round at her. Yes, yes, said Miss Millroy vacantly. You're a good girl, you shall go to school. The cruel brevity of the reply and the tone in which it was spoken told Neely plainly that her mother's attention had been wandering far away from her, and that it was useless and needless to prolong the interview. She turned aside quietly, without a word of remonstrance. It was nothing new in her experience to find herself shut out from her mother's sympathies. She looked at her eyes and the glass, and pouring out some cold water bathed her face. Miss Guilt shan't see I've been crying, thought Neely, as she went back to the bedside to take her leave. I've tired you out, Mama, she said gently. Let me go now, and let me come back a little later when you've had some rest. Yes, repeated her mother as mechanically as ever, a little later when I've had some rest. Neely left the room. A minute after the door had closed on her, Mrs. Millroy rang the bell for her nurse. In the face of the narrative she had just heard, in the face of every reasonable estimate of probabilities, she held to her own jealous conclusions as firmly as ever. Mr. Armadale may believe her, and my daughter may believe her, thought the furious woman, but I know the major, and she can't deceive me. The nurse came in. Prop me up, said Mrs. Millroy, and give me my desk. I want to write. You're excited, replied the nurse. You're not fit to write. Give me the desk, reiterated Mrs. Millroy. Anything more? Ask Rachel, repeating her invariable formula as she placed the desk on the bed. Yes, come back in half an hour. I shall want you to take a letter to the great house. The nurse's sardonic composure deserted her for once. Mercy on us, she exclaimed, with an accent of genuine surprise. What next? You don't mean to say you're going to write. I am going to write to Mr. Armadale, interposed Mrs. Millroy, and you are going to take the letter to him, and wait for an answer. And mind this, not a living soul, but our two selves must know of it in the house. Why are you ready to Mr. Armadale? Ask Rachel, and why is nobody to know of it, but our two selves. Wait, rejoined Mrs. Millroy, and you will see. The nurse's curiosity, being a woman's curiosity, declined to wait. I'll help you with my eyes open, she said, but I won't help you blindfolded. Oh, if I only had the use of my limbs, grown Mrs. Millroy, you wretch, if I could only do without you. You have the use of your head, retarded the impenetrable nurse, and you ought to know better than trust me by haves at this time of day. It was brutally put, but it was true, doubly true, after the opening of Ms. Guilt's letter, Millroy gave way. What do you want to know, she asked? Tell me and leave me. I want to know what you are writing to Mr. Armadale about. About Ms. Guilt. What has Mr. Armadale to do with you and Ms. Guilt? Mrs. Millroy held up the letter that had been returned to her by the authorities at the post office. Stoop, she said. Ms. Guilt may be listening at the door. I'll whisper. The nurse stooped with her eye on the door. You know that the postman went with this letter to Kingsdon Crescent, said Ms. Millroy, and you know that he found Ms. Mandeville gone away. Nobody could tell where. Well, whispered Rachel, what next? This next, when Mr. Armadale gets the letter that I'm going to write to him, he will follow the same road as the postman, and we'll see what happens when he knocks at Mrs. Mandeville's door. How do you get him to the door? I tell him to go to Ms. Guilt's reference. Is he sweet on Ms. Guilt? Yes. Ah, said the nurse. I see. End of Book III, Chapter II, Recording by Michael Anthony Petronic. Book III, Chapter III of Armadale. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Armadale by Wilkie Collins. Book III, Chapter III, The Brink of Discovery. The morning of the interview between Ms. Millroy and her daughter at the cottage was a morning of serious reflection for the squire at the Great House. Even Alan's easy-temper nature had not been proof against the disturbing influences exercised on it by the events of the last three days. Midwinter's abrupt departure had vexed him, and Major Millroy's reception of his inquiries relating to Ms. Guilt weighed unpleasantly on his mind. Since his visit to the cottage, he had felt impatient and ill at ease for the first time in his life with everybody who came near him. Impatient with Pettgift Jr., who had called on the previous evening to announce his departure for London on business the next day, and to place his services at the disposal of his client, ill at ease with Ms. Guilt at a secret meeting with her in the park that morning, and ill at ease in his own company, as he now sat moodily smoking in the solitude of his room. I can't live this sort of life much longer, thought Alan. If nobody will help me to put the awkward question to Ms. Guilt, I must stumble on some way of putting it for myself. What way? The answer to that question was as hard to find as ever. Alan tried to stimulate his sluggish invention by walking up and down the room, and was disturbed by the appearance of the footmen at the first turn. Now then, what is it? He asked impatiently. A letter, sir, and the person waits for an answer. Alan looked at the address it was in a strange handwriting. He opened the letter, and a little note enclosed in it dropped to the ground. The note was directed, still in the strange handwriting, to Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdon Crescent, Bayswater, favored by Mr. Armadale. More and more surprised, Alan turned for information to the signature at the end of the letter. It was Anne Milmoy. Anne Milmoy, he repeated. It must be the major's wife. What can she possibly want with me? By way of discovering what she wanted, Alan did at last what he might more wisely have done at first. He sat down to read the letter. Private. The Cottage. Monday. Dear sir, the name at the end of these lines will, I fear, recall to you a very rude return made on my part, some time since, for an act of neighborly kindness on yours. I can only say an excuse that I am a great sufferer, and that, if I was ill-tempered enough, in a moment of irritation under severe pain, to send back your present of fruit, I have regretted doing so ever since. I tribute this letter, if you please, to my desire to make some atonement, and to my wish to be of service to our good friend, and landlord, if I possibly can. I've been informed of the question which you addressed to my husband, the day before yesterday, on the subject of misquilt. From all I have heard of you, I am quite sure that your anxiety to know more of this charming person, than you know now, is an anxiety proceeding from the most honorable motives. Believing this, I feel a woman's interest, incurable in the lid as I am, in assisting you. If you are a desirous of becoming acquainted with Miss Guilt's family circumstances, without directly appealing to Miss Guilt herself, it rests with you to make the discovery, and I will tell you how. It so happens that, some few days since, I wrote privately to Miss Guilt's reference on this very subject, I had long observed that my governess was singularly reluctant to speak of her family and her friends, and without attributing her silence to other than perfectly proper motives, I felt in my duty to my daughter to make some inquiry on the subject. The answer that I have received is satisfactory as far as it goes. My correspondent informs me that Miss Guilt's story is a very sad one, and that her own contact throughout has been praiseworthy in the extreme. The circumstances of a domestic nature as I gather are all plainly stated in a collection of letters, now in the possession of Miss Guilt's reference. This lady is perfectly willing to let me see the letters, but not possessing copies of them, and being personally responsible for their security, she is reluctant, if it can be avoided, to trust them to the post, and she begs me to wait until she or I, under these circumstances. It has struck me that you might possibly, with your interest in the matter, be not unwilling to take charge of the papers. If I am wrong in this idea, and if you are not disposed, after what I have told you, to go to the trouble and expense of a journey to London, you have only to burn my letter and enclosure, and to think no more about it. If you decide on becoming my envoy, I gladly provide you with the necessary introduction to Mrs. Mandeville. You have only on presenting it, to receive the letters in the sealed packet, to send them here on your return to Thorpe Ambrose, and to wait in early communication from me, acquaining you with the result. In conclusion, I have only to add that I see no impropriety in your taking, if you feel so inclined, the course that I propose to you. Miss Squilt's manner of receiving such illusions as I have made to her family circumstances has rendered it unpleasant for me, and would render it quite impossible for you to seek information in the first instance from herself. I am certainly justified in applying to a reference, and you are certainly not to blame for being the medium of safely transmitting a sealed communication with one lady to another. If I find in that communication family secrets which cannot honorably be mentioned to any third person, I shall of course be obliged to keep you waiting until I have first appealed to Miss Squilt. If I find nothing recorded but what is to her honor, and what is sure to raise her still higher in your estimation, I am undeniably doing her a service by taking you into my confidence. This is how I look at the matter, but pray don't allow me to influence you. In any case, I have one condition to make, which I am sure you will understand to be indispensable. The most innocent actions are liable, in this wicked world, to the worst possible interpretation. I must therefore request that you will consider this communication as strictly private. I write to you in a confidence which is on no account, until circumstances may, in my opinion, justify the revelation of it, to extend beyond our two selves. Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, and Milroy. In this tempting form, the unscrupulous ingenuity of the major's wife had set the trap. Without a moment's hesitation, Allen followed his impulses, as usual, and walked straight into it, writing his answer and pursuing his own reflections simultaneously in a highly characteristic state of mental confusion. By Jupiter, this is kind of Mrs. Milroy, my dear madam. Just the thing I wanted, at the time when I needed it most, I don't know how to express my sense of your kindness, except by saying that I will go to London and fetch the letters with the greatest pleasure. She shall have a basket of fruit regularly every day, all through the season. I will go at once, dear madam, and be back tomorrow. Nothing like the women for helping one, when one is in love. This is just what my poor mother would have done in Mrs. Milroy's place. On my word of honour, as a gentleman, I will take the utmost care of the letters, and keep the thing strictly private, as you request. I would have given five hundred pounds to anybody who would have put me up to the right way to speak to Miss Quilt, and here is this blessed woman doing it for nothing. Believe me, my dear madam, gratefully yours, Allen Armadale. Having sent his reply out to Mrs. Milroy's messenger, Allen paused in a momentary perplexity. He had an appointment with Miss Quilt in the park for the next morning. It was absolutely necessary to let her know that he would be unable to keep it. She had forbidden him to write, and he had no chance that day of seeing her alone. In this difficulty, he determined to let the necessary intimation reach her through the medium of a message to the major, announcing his departure from London on business, and asking if he could be of service to any member of the family. Having thus removed the only obstacle to his freedom of action, Allen consulted the timetable, and found, to his disappointment, that there was a good hour to spare before it would be necessary to drive to the railway station. In his existing frame of mind, he would infinitely have preferred starting from London in a violent hurry. When the time came at last, Allen, on passing the steward's office, jumped at the door, and called through it to Mr. Bashwood. I'm going to town, back tomorrow. There was no answer from within, and the servant, interposing, informed his master that Mr. Bashwood, having no business to attend to that day, had locked up the office, and had left some hours since. On reaching the station, the first person whom Allen encountered was Pettgift Jr., going to London on the legal business, which he had mentioned on the previous evening at the Great House. The necessary explanations exchanged, and it was decided that the two should travel in the same carriage. Allen was glad to have a companion, and Pettgift, enchanted as usual to make himself useful to his client, bustled away to get the tickets, and to see to the luggage. Saw a train to and fro on the platform, and tell his faithful follower returned. Allen came suddenly upon, no less the person, than Mr. Bashwood himself, standing back in a corner with the guard of the train, and putting the letter, accompanied to all appearance by a fee, privately into the man's hand. Hello, cried Allen, in his hearty way. Something important there, Mr. Bashwood, eh? If Mr. Bashwood had been caught in the act of committee murder, he could hardly have shown greater alarm than he now testified, and Allen's sudden discovery of him. Snatching off his dingy old hat, he bowed, bareheaded, in a palsy of nervous trembling from head to foot. No, sir, no, sir, only a little letter, a little letter, a little letter. Said the deputy steward, taking refuge in reiteration, and bowing himself, swiftly backward, out of his employer's sight. Allen turned carelessly on his heel. I wish I could take to that fellow, he thought, but I can't. He's such a sneak. What the deuce was there to tremble about? Does he think I want to pry into his secrets? Mr. Bashwood's secret on this occasion concerned Allen more nearly than Allen's opposed. The letter which he had just placed in charge of the guard was nothing less than a word of warning addressed to Mrs. Oldershaw, and written by Ms. Squilt. If you can hurry your business, wrote the major's governess, do so, and come back to London immediately. Things are going wrong here, and Ms. Moroys at the bottom of the mischief. This morning she insisted on taking up her mother's breakfast, always on other occasions taken up by the nurse. They had a long confabulation in private, and half an hour later, I saw the nurse slip out with the letter, and take the path that leads to the great house. The sending of the letter has been followed by young armadales' sudden departure for London. In the face of an appointment, which she had with me from the morning, this looks serious. The girl is evidently bold enough to make a fight of it for the position of Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, and she has found out some way of getting her mother to help her. Don't suppose I am in the least nervous, or discouraged, and don't do anything till you hear from me again. Only get back to London, for I may have serious need of your assistance in the course of the next day or two. I send this letter to town to save a post, by the midday train, in charge of the guard. As you insist on knowing every step I take at Thorpe Ambrose, I may as well tell you that my messenger, for I can't go to the station myself, is that curious old creature, whom I mentioned to you in my first letter. Ever since that time, he has been perpetually hanging about here for a look at me. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to look at me. I'm not sure whether I frighten him or fascinate him. Perhaps I do both together. All you need care to know is that I can trust him with my trifling errands, and possibly, as time goes on, with something more. L.G. Meanwhile, the train had started, from the Thorpe Ambrose station, and the squire and his traveling companion were on their way to London. Some men finding themselves in Allen's company, under present circumstances, might have felt curious to know the nature of his business in the metropolis. Young pet gifts, an Aryan instinct as a man of the world, penetrated the secret without the slightest difficulty. The old story, thought this wary old head, wagging privately on its lusty young shoulders. There is a woman in the case, as usual. Any other business would have been turned over to me. Perfectly satisfied with this conclusion, Mr. Petgift, the younger, proceeded with an eye to his professional interest, to make himself agreeable to his client, in the capacity of volunteer courier. He seized on the whole administrative business of the journey to London, as he had seized on the whole administrative business of the picnic at the Broads. On reaching the terminus, Allen was ready to go to any hotel that might be recommended. His invaluable solicitor, Straightway, drove him to a hotel, at which the Petgift family had been accustomed to put up for three generations. You don't object to vegetable, sir, said the cheerful Petgift, as the cab stopped at a hotel in Covent Garden Market. Very good. You may leave the rest to my grandfather, my father, and me. I don't know which of the three is most beloved and respected in this house. How do you do, William? Our head waiter, Mr. Armadale, is your wife's rheumatism better, and does a little boy get on nicely at school? Your master's out, is he? Never mind, you'll do. This, William, is Mr. Armadale of Thor Bambros. I have prevailed on Mr. Armadale to try our house. Have you got the bedroom I wrote for? Very good. Let Mr. Armadale have it instead of me. My grandfather's favorite bedroom, sir, number 57 on the second floor. Pray take it. I can sleep anywhere. Will you have the mattress on the top of the feather bed? You hear, William. Tell Matilda the mattress on the top of the feather bed. How is Matilda? Has she got the toothache as usual? The head chambermaid, Mr. Armadale, and a most extraordinary woman, she will not part with a hollow tooth in her lower jaw. My grandfather says, have it out. My father says, have it out. I say, have it out. And Matilda turns a deaf ear to all three of us. Yes, William, yes. If Mr. Armadale approves, this sitting room will do. About dinner, sir. Shall we say, in that case, half past seven? William, half past seven. Not the least need to order anything, Mr. Armadale. The head waiter has only to give my compliments to the cook, and the best dinner in London will be sent up, punctual to the minute, as a necessary consequence. Say, Mr. Pettke Jr., if you please, William. Otherwise, sir, we might get my grandfather's dinner or my father's dinner, and they might turn out a little too heavy and old-fashioned in their way of feeding for you and me. As to the wine, William, at dinner, my champagne, and the sherry that my father thinks nasty. After dinner, the claret, with the blue seal. The wine my innocent grandfather said wasn't worth six pence a bottle. Ha, ha. Poor old boy. You will send up the evening papers and the playbills, just as usual, and that will do. I think William, for the present, an invaluable servant, Mr. Armadale, they're all invaluable servants in this house. We may not be fashionable here, sir, but by the Lord Harry, we are snug. A cab? You would like a cab? Don't stir. I've run the bell twice. That means cab wanted in a hurry. Might I ask, Mr. Armadale, which way your business takes you? Toward Bayswater. Would you mind dropping me in the park? It's a habit of mine when I'm in London to err myself among the aristocracy. Yours truly, sir, has an eye for a fine woman and a fine horse, and when he's in Hyde Park he's quite in his native element. Thus the all-accomplished pet gift ran on, and by these little arts did he recommend himself to the good opinion of his client. When the dinner hour united the traveling companions again in their sitting-room at the hotel, a far less acute observer than young pet gift must have noticed the marked change that appeared in Allen's manner. He looked vexed and puzzled, and sat, drumming with his fingers on the dining table without uttering a word. I'm afraid something has happened to annoy you, sir, since we parted company in the park, said pet gift junior. Excuse the question. I only ask it in case I can be of any use. Something that I never expected has happened, returned Allen. I don't know what to make of it. I should like to have your opinion, he added, after a little hesitation. That is to say, if you will excuse my not entering into any particulars. Certainly, assented young pet gift. Sketched an outline, sir. The mirror's tint will do. I wasn't born yesterday. Oh, these women thought the youthful philosopher in parenthesis. Well, began Allen. You know what I said when we got to this hotel? I said I had a place to go in Bayswater. Pet gift mentally checked off the first point. Case in the suburbs, Bayswater. And a person, that is to say, no, as I said before, a person to inquire after. Pet gift checked off the next point. Person in the case, she person, or he person. She person, unquestionably. Well, I went to the house, and when I asked for her, I mean the person, she, that is to say, the person, oh, confounded, cried Allen. I shall drive myself mad, and you too, if I try to tell my story in this roundabout way. Here it is in two words. I went to number 18, Kingston Crescent, to see a lady named Mandeville. And when I asked for her, the servant said, Mrs. Mandeville had gone away without telling anybody where, and without even leaving an address at which letters could be sent to her. There. It's out at last, and what do you think of it now? Tell me first, sir, said the wary pet gift. What inquiries you made when you found this lady had vanished? Inquiries, repeated Allen. I was utterly staggered. I didn't say anything. What inquiries ought I to have made? Pet gift junior cleared his throat and crossed his legs in a strictly professional manner. I have no wish, Mr. Armandale, he began, to inquire into your business with Mrs. Mandeville. No, interposed Allen bluntly. I hope you won't inquire into that. My business with Mrs. Mandeville must remain a secret. But, pursued pet gift, laying down the law with the forefinger of one hand on the outstretched palm of the other, I may perhaps be allowed to ask generally whether your business with Mrs. Mandeville is of a nature to interest you in tracing her from Kingston Crescent to her present address. Certainly, said Allen, I have a very particular reason for wishing to see her. In that case, sir, returned pet gift junior. There were two obvious questions which you ought to have asked, to begin with, namely, on what date Mrs. Mandeville left. On what date Mrs. Mandeville left. And how she left. Having discovered this, you should have ascertained next what domestic circumstances she went away. Whether there was a misunderstanding with anybody, say a difficulty about money matters. Also, whether she went away alone or with somebody else. Also, whether the house was her own or whether she only lodged in it. Also, in the latter event, stop, stop, you're making my head swim, cried Allen. I don't understand all these ins and outs. I'm not used to this sort of thing. I've been used to it myself from my childhood upwards, sir, remarked pet gift. And if I can be of any assistance, say the word. You're very kind, returned Allen. If you could only help me to find Mrs. Mandeville, and if you wouldn't mind leaving the thing afterward entirely in my hands, I'll leave it in your hands, sir, with all the pleasure in life, said pet gift junior. And all day, five to one, he added mentally. When the time comes, you'll leave it in mine. We'll go to base water together, Mr. Armandale, tomorrow morning. In the meantime, here's the soup. The case now before the court is, pleasure versus business. I don't know what you say, sir. I say, without a moment's hesitation, verdict for the plaintiff. Let us gather our rosebirds while we may. Excuse my high spirits, Mr. Armandale. Though buried in the country, I was made for a London life. The very air of the metropolis intoxicates me. Without a vowel, the irresistible pet gift placed a chair for his patron, and issued his orders cheerfully to his viceroy, the head waiter. Iced punch, William, after the soup. I answer for the punch, Mr. Armandale. It's made after a recipe of my great uncles. He kept a tavern, and founded the fortunes of the family. I don't mind telling you the pet gifts have had a publican among them. There's no false pride about me. Worth makes the man, as Pope says, and want of it the fellow. The rest is all but leather and prunella. I cultivate poetry as well as music, sir, in my leisure hours. In fact, I more or less unfamiliar terms with the whole of the nine muses. Ah, here's the punch. The memory of my great uncle, the publican Mr. Armandale, drunk in solemn silence. Alan tried hard to emulate his companion's gaiety and good humor, but with very indifferent success. His visit to Kingsdon Crescent recurred ominously again and again to his memory, all through the dinner, and all through the public amusements to which he and his legal advisor were paired at a later hour of the evening. When pet gift junior put out his candle that night, he shook his wary head and regretfully apostrophized the women for the second time. By ten o'clock the next morning the indefatigable pet gift was on the scene of action. To Alan's great relief, he proposed making the necessary inquiries at Kingsdon Crescent in his own person while his patron waited near at hand in the cab which had brought them from the hotel. After a delay of little more than five minutes, he reappeared in full possession of all attainable particulars. His first proceeding was to request Alan to step out of the cab and to pay the driver. Next, he politely offered his arm and led the way around the corner of the Crescent across the square and into a by street, which was rendered exceptionally lively by the presence of the local cab stand. Here he stopped and asked Jacosly whether Mr. Armadale saw his way now whether it would be necessary to test his patience by making an explanation. See my way, repeated Alan in bewilderment. I see nothing but a cab stand. Pet gift junior smiled compassionately and entered on his explanation. It was a lodging house at Kingsdon Crescent. He begged a state to begin with. He had insisted on seeing the landlady, a very nice person with all the remains of having been a fine girl about fifty years ago, quite in pet gift style, if he had only been alive at the beginning of the present century, quite in pet gift style. Pupper House Mr. Armadale would prefer hearing about Mrs. Mandeville. Unfortunately, there was nothing to tell. There had been no quarreling and not a farthing left unpaid. The lodger had gone and there wasn't an explanatory circumstance to lay hold of anywhere. It was either Mrs. Mandeville's way to vanish or there was something under the rose, quite undiscoverable so far. Pet gift had got the date on which she left and the time of day at which she left and the means by which she left. The means might help to trace her. She had gone away in a cab which the servant had fetched from the nearest stand. The stand was now before their eyes and the waterman was the first person to apply to. Going to the waterman for information, being clearly if Mr. Armadale would excuse the joke, going to the fountain head. Treating the subject in this airy manner and telling Alan that he would be back in a moment, pet gift junior saunter down the street and beckon the waterman confidentially into the nearest public house. In a little while the two reappeared, the waterman taking pet gift in succession to the first, third, fourth, and sixth of the cabin whose vehicles were on the stand. The longest conference was held with the sixth man and it ended in the sudden approach of the sixth cab to the part of the street where Alan was waiting. Get in, sir, said pet gift, opening the door. I've found the man. He remembers the lady and, though he has forgotten the name of the street, he believes he can find the place he drove her to when he once gets back into the neighborhood. I'm charmed to inform you, Mr. Armadale, that we are in luck. So far, I asked the waterman to show me the regular men on the stand and it turns out that one of the regular men drove Mrs. Mandeville. The waterman vouches for him. He's quite an anomaly, a respectable cabin, drives his own horse, and has never been in any trouble. These are the sort of men, sir, who sustain one's belief in human nature. I've had a look at our friend and I agree with the waterman. I think we can depend on him. The investigation required some exercise of patience at the outset. It was not till the cab had traversed the distance between Bayswater and Pimlico that the driver began to slacken his pace and look about him. After once or twice retracing its course, the vehicle entered a quiet by street ending in a dead wall with a door in it and stopped at the last house on the left-hand side, the house next to the wall. Here it is, gentlemen, said the man opening the cab door. Allen and Allen's advisor both got out and both looked at the house with the same feeling of instinctive distrust. Buildings have their physiognomy, especially buildings in great cities, and the face of this house was essentially furtive in its expression. The front windows were all shut and the front blinds were all drawn down. It looked no larger than the other houses in the street seen in front, but it ran back deceitfully and gained its greater accommodation by means of its greater depth. It affected to be a shop on the ground floor, but it exhibited absolutely nothing in the space that intervened between the window and an inner row of red curtains, which hid the interior entirely from view. At one side was the shop door, having more red curtains behind the glazed part of it and burying a brass plate on the wooden part of it inscribed with the name of Oldershaw. On the other side was the private door with the bell marked Professional and another brass plate indicating a medical occupant on the side of the house. For the name on it was Dr. Downward. If ever Brick and Mortar spoke yet, the Brick and Mortar here said plainly, we have got our secrets inside and we mean to keep them. This can't be the place, said Allen. There must be some mistake. You know best, sir, remarked Pettgift, Jr., with his sardonic gravity. You know Mrs. Mandeville's habits. I, exclaimed Allen, you may be surprised to hear it, but Mrs. Mandeville is a total stranger to me. I'm not in the least surprised to hear it, sir. The landlady at Kingston Crescent informed me that Mrs. Mandeville was an old woman. Suppose we inquire, added the impenetrable Pettgift, looking at the red curtains in the shop window with a strong suspicion that Mrs. Mandeville's granddaughter might possibly be behind them. They tried the shop door first. It was locked. They rang. A lean and yellow young woman with a tattered French novel in her hand opened it. Good morning, Miss, said Pettgift. Is Mrs. Mandeville at home? The yellow young woman stared at him in astonishment. No person of that name is known here, she answered, sharply, in a foreign accent. Perhaps they know her at the private door, suggested Pettgift Jr. Perhaps they do, said the yellow young woman, and shut the door in his face. Rather a quick tempered young person, that sir, said Pettgift. I congratulate Mrs. Mandeville on not being acquainted with her. He led the way, as he spoke, to Dr. Downworth's side of the premises, and rang the bell. The door was opened this time by a man in a shabby livery. He, too, stared when Mrs. Mandeville's name was mentioned, and he, too, knew of no such person in the house. Very odd, said Pettgift, appealing to Allen. What is odd? Asked a softly stepping, softly speaking gentleman in black, suddenly appearing on the threshold of the parlor door. Pettgift Jr. politely explained the circumstances, and begged to know whether he had the pleasure of speaking to Dr. Downworth. The doctor bowed. If the expression may be pardoned, he was one of those carefully constructed physicians, in whom the public, especially the female public, implicitly trust. He had the necessary bald head, the necessary double eyeglass, the necessary black clothes, and the necessary blandness of manner, all complete. His voice was soothing. His ways were deliberate. His smile was confidential. What particular branch of his profession, Dr. Downworth followed, was not indicated on his door plate, but he had utterly mistaken his vocation if he was not a lady's medical man. Are you quite sure there is no mistake about the name, asked the doctor, with a strong underlying anxiety in his manner? I have known very serious inconvenience to arise sometimes from mistakes about names. No? There's really no mistake. In that case, gentlemen, I can only repeat what my servant has already told you. Don't apologize, pray. Good morning. The doctor withdrew, as noiselessly as he had appeared. The man in the shabby livery silently opened the door, and Allen and his companion found themselves in the street again. Mr. Armadale said, Petgift, I don't know how you feel. I feel puzzled. Word returned Allen. I was just going to ask you what we ought to do next. I don't like the look of the place, the look of the shopwoman, or the look of the doctor. Pursued the other. And yet I can't say I think they are deceiving us. I can't say I think they really know Mrs. Mandeville's name. The impressions of Petgift Jr. seldom misled him, and they had not misled him in this case. The caution which had dictated Mrs. Oldershaw's private removal from Bayswater was the caution which frequently overreaches itself. It had warned her to trust nobody at Pimlico, with the secret of the name she had assumed as Ms. Guilt's reference. But it had entirely failed to repair her for the emergency that had really happened. In a word, Mrs. Oldershaw had provided for everything, except for the one unimaginable contingency of an after inquiry into the character of Ms. Guilt. We must do something, said Ellen. It seems useless to stop here. Nobody had ever yet caught Petgift Jr. at the end of his resources, and Ellen failed to catch him at the end of them now. I quite agree with you, sir, he said. We must do something. We'll cross-examine the cabinet. The cabinet proved to be immovable. Charged with mistaking the place, he pointed to the empty shop window. I don't know what you may have seen, gentlemen, he remarked, but there's the only shop window I ever saw with nothing at all inside it. That fixed the place in my mind at the time, and I know it again when I see it. Charged with mistaking the person or the day, or the house at which he had taken the person up, the cabinet proved to be still unassailable. The servant who fetched him was marked as a girl well-known on the stand. The day was marked as the unluckiest working day he had since the first of the year, and the lady was marked as having had her money ready at the right moment, which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually had, and having paid atmosphere on demand without disputing it, which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually did. Take my number, gentlemen, concluded the cabinet, and paid me for my time, and what I've said to you, I'll swear to anywhere. Pet gift made a note in his pocketbook of the man's number, having added to it the name of the street and the names on the two brass plates. He quietly opened the cab door. We are quite in the dark thus far, he said. Suppose we grop our way back to the hotel? He spoke and looked more seriously than usual. The mere fact of Mrs. Mandeville's having changed her lodging without telling anyone where she was going, and without leaving any address at which letters could be forwarded to her, which the jealous malignity of Mrs. Mulroy had interpreted as being undeniably suspicious in itself, have reduced no great impression on the more impartial judgment of Alan Solicitor. People frequently left their lodgings in a private manner, with perfectly producible reasons for doing so, but the appearance of the place to which the cabin persisted in declaring that he had driven Mrs. Mandeville set the character and proceedings of that mysterious lady before Pedgip Jr. in a new light. His personal interest in the inquiry suddenly strengthened, and he began to feel a curiosity to know the real nature of Alan's business, which he had not felt yet. Our next move, Mr. Armadale, is not a very easy move to see, he said, as they drove back to the hotel. Do you think you could put me in possession of any further particulars? Alan hesitated, and Pedgip Jr. saw that he had advanced a little too far. I mustn't force it, he thought. I must give it time and let it come with its own accord. In the absence of any other information, sir, he resumed, what do you say to my making some inquiry about that queer shop and about those two names on the door plate? My business in London, when I leave you, is of a professional nature, and I'm going into the right quarter for giving information if it is to be got. There can't be any harm, I suppose, in making inquiries, replied Alan. He too spoke more seriously than usual. He too was beginning to feel an all-mastering curiosity to know more. Some vague connection, not to be distinctly realized or traced out, began to establish itself in his mind between the difficulty of approaching Miss Guilt's family circumstances and the difficulty of approaching Miss Guilt's reference. I'll get down and walk and leave you to go on your business, he said. I want to consider a little about this, and a walk and a cigar will help me. My business will be done, sir, between one and two, said Pedgift, when the cab had been stopped, and Alan had got out. Shall we meet again at two o'clock at the hotel? Alan nodded, and the cab drove off. End of Book 3, Chapter 3. Armadil by Wilkie Collins Book III, Chapter 4. Alan at Bay Two o'clock came, and Pedgift, Jr., punctual to his time, came with it. His feversity of the morning had all sparkled out. He greeted Alan with his customary politeness, but without his customary smile, and when the head waiter came in for orders, his dismissal was instantly pronounced in words never yet heard to issue from the lips of Pedgift in that hotel. Nothing at present. You seem to be in low spirits, said Alan. Can't we get our information? Can nobody tell you anything about the house in Pimlico? Three different people have told me about it, Mr. Armadil, and they have all three said the same thing. Alan eagerly drew his chair nearer to the place occupied by his traveling companion. His reflections in the interval since they had last seen each other had not tended to compose him. That strange connection so easy to feel so hard to trace between the difficulty of approaching Ms. Guilt's family circumstances and the difficulty of approaching Ms. Guilt's reference, which had already established itself in his thoughts, had by this time stealthily taken a firmer and firmer hold on his mind. Doubts troubled him which he could neither understand nor express. Curiosity filled him which he half longed and half dreaded to satisfy. I am afraid I must trouble you with a question or two, sir, before I can come to the point, said pet gift jr. I don't want to force myself into your confidence. I only want to see my way in what looks to me like a very awkward business. Do you mind telling me whether others besides yourself are interested in this inquiry of ours? Other people are interested in it, replied Alan. There's no objection to telling you that. Is there any other person who is the object of the inquiry besides Mrs. Mandeville herself, pursued pet gift, winding his way a little deeper into the secret? Yes, there is another person, said Alan, answering rather unwillingly. Is the person a young woman, Mr. Armadil? Alan started. How do you come to guess that? He began, then checked himself when it was too late. Don't ask me any more questions, he resumed. I'm a bad hand at defending myself against a sharp fellow like you, and I'm bound in honor toward other people to keep the particulars of this business to myself. Pet gift jr. had apparently heard enough for his purpose. He drew his chair in his turn nearer to Alan. He was evidently anxious and embarrassed, but his professional manner began to show itself again from sheer force of habit. I've done with my question, sir, he said, and I have something to say now on my side. In my father's absence, perhaps you may be kindly disposed to consider me as your legal advisor. If you will take my advice, you will not stir another step in this inquiry. What do you mean? Into post, Alan. It is just possible, Mr. Armadil, that the capman, positive as he is, may have been mistaken. I strongly recommend you to take it for granted that he is mistaken and to drop it there. The caution was kindly intended, but it came too late. Alan did what 99 men out of 100 in his position would have done. He declined to take his lawyer's advice. Very well, sir, said pet gift jr. If you will have it, you must have it. He leaned forward close to Alan's ear and whispered what he had heard of the house in Pimlico and of the people who occupied it. Don't blame me, Mr. Armadil, he added, when the irrevocable words had been spoken. I tried to spare you. Alan suffered the shock as all great shocks have suffered in silence. His first impulse would have driven him headlong for refuge to the very view of the capman's assertion, which had just been recommended to him. But for one damning circumstance which placed itself inexorably in his way, his squirreled marked reluctance to approach the story of her past life rose irrepressibly on his memory in indirect but horrible confirmation of the evidence which connected Miss Guil's reference with the house in Pimlico. One conclusion and one only, the conclusion which any man must have drawn, hearing what he had just heard and knowing no more than he knew, forced itself into his mind. A miserable, fallen woman who had abandoned herself in her extremity to the help of wretches skilled in criminal concealment, who had stolen her way back to decent society and reputable employment by means of a forced character and whose position now imposed on her the dreadful necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation to her past life. Such was the aspect in which the beautiful governors at Thorpe Ambrose now stood revealed to Ellen's eyes. Falsely revealed or truly revealed had she stolen her way back to decent society and reputable employment by means of a forced character? She had. Did her position impose on her the dreadful necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation to her past life? It did. Was she some such pitiable victim to the treachery of a man unknown as Ellen had supposed? She was no such pitiable victim. The conclusion which Ellen had drawn, the conclusion literally forced into his mind by the facts before him was nevertheless the conclusion of all others that was furthest even from touching on the truth. The true story of Miss Guilt's connection with the house in Pimlico and the people who inhabited it, a house rightly described as filled with wicked secrets and people rightly represented as perpetually in danger of feeling the grasp of the law was a story which coming events were yet to disclose. A story infinitely less revolting and yet infinitely more terrible than Ellen or Ellen's companion had either of them supposed. I tried to spare you, Mr. Armadil, repeated pet gift. I was anxious if I could possibly avoid it not to distress you. Ellen looked up and made an effort to control himself. You have distressed me dreadfully, he said. You have quite crushed me down, but it is not your fault. I ought to feel you have done me a service and what I ought to do I will do when I am my own man again. There is one thing, Ellen added, after a moment's painful consideration which ought to be understood between us at once. The advice you offered me just now was very kindly meant and it was the best advice that could be given. I will take it gratefully. We will never talk of this again, if you please. And I beg and entreat you will never speak about it to any other person. Will you promise me that? That gift gave the promise with very evident sincerity but without his professional confidence of manner. The distress in Ellen's face seemed to dawned him. After a moment of very uncharacteristic hesitation he considerably quitted the room. Left by himself, Ellen rang for writing materials and took out of his pocketbook the fatal letter of introduction to Mrs. Mandeville which he had received from the major's wife. A man accustomed to consider consequences and to prepare himself for action by previous thought would, in Ellen's present circumstances, have felt some difficulty as to the cause which it might now be least embarrassing and least dangerous to pursue. Accustomed to let his impulses direct him on all other occasions, Ellen acted on impulse in the serious emergency that now confronted him. Though his attachment to Miss Gwilt was nothing like the deeply rooted feeling which he had himself honestly believed it to be, she had taken no common place in his admiration and she filled him with no common grief when he thought of her now. His one dominance desire at that critical moment in his life was a man's merciful desire to protect from exposure and ruin the unhappy woman who had lost her place in his estimation without losing her claim to the forbearance that could spare and to the compassion that could shield her. I can't go back to Thorpe Ambrose. I can't trust myself to speak to her or to see her again but I can keep her miserable secret and I will. With that thought in his heart Ellen set himself to perform the first and foremost duty which now claimed him, the duty of communicating with Mrs. Milroy. If he had possessed a higher mental capacity and a clearer mental view he might have found the latter no easy one to write. As it was he calculated no consequences and felt no difficulty. His instinct warned him to withdraw at once from the position in which he now stood toward the major's wife and he wrote what his instinct counseled him to write under those circumstances as rapidly as the pen could travel over the paper. Don's Hotel Covent Garden Tuesday Dear Madam Pray excuse my not returning to Thorpe Ambrose today as I said I would. Unforeseen circumstances oblige me to stop in London. I am sorry to say I have not succeeded in seeing Mrs. Manville for which reason I cannot perform your errand and I beg therefore with many apologies to return the letter of introduction. I hope you will allow me to conclude by saying that I am very much obliged to you for your kindness and that I will not venture to trespass on it any further. I remain dear Madam yours truly Alan Armadil. In those artless words still entirely unsuspicious of the character of the woman he had to deal with Alan put the weapon she wanted into Mrs. Milroy's hands. The letter and its enclosure once sealed up in a dress he was free to think of himself and his future as he said idly drawing lines with his pen on the blotting paper the tears came into his eyes for the first time tears in which the woman who had deceived him had no share his heart had gone back to his dead mother if she had been alive he thought I might have trusted her and she would have comforted me it was useless to dwell on it he dashed away the tears and turned his thoughts with the heartsick resignation that we all know to living and present things he wrote a line to Mr. Bashwood briefly informing the deputy steward that his absence from Thorpe Ambrose was likely to be prolonged for some little time and that any further instructions which might be necessary under those circumstances would reach him through Mr. Petgif the Elder this done and the letter sent to the post his thoughts beforced back once more on himself again the blank future waited before him to be filled up and again his heart shrank from it to the refuge of the past this time other images than the image of his mother filled his mind the one all absorbing interest of his earlier days stirred living and eager in him again he thought of the sea he thought of his yacht lying idle in a fishing harbour at his west country home the old longing got possession of him to hear the wash of the waves to see the filling of the sails to feel the vessel that his own hands had helped to build bounding under him once more he rose in his impetuous way to call for the timetable and to start for Summersetshire by the first train when the dread of the questions which Mr. Brock might ask the suspicion of the change which Mr. Brock might see in him drew him back to his chair I'll write he thought to have the yacht rigged and refitted and I'll wait to go to Summersetshire myself till midwinter can go with me he sighed as his memory reverted to his absent friend never had he felt the void made in his life by midwinter's departure so painfully as he felt it now in the dreariest of all social solitudes solitude of a stranger in London left by himself at a hotel before long Petgif Jr. looked in with an apology for his intrusion Alan felt too lonely and too friendless not to welcome his companion's reappearance gratefully I'm not going back to Thorpe Ambrose he said I'm going to stay a little while in London I hope you will be able to stay with me to do him justice Petgif was touched by the solitary position in which the owner of the great Thorpe Ambrose estate now appeared before him he had never in his relations with Alan so entirely forgotten his business interests as he forgot them now you are quite right sir to stop here London's the place to divert your mind said Petgif cheerfully all business is more or less elastic in its nature Mr. Arm Dill I'll spin my business out and keep you company with the greatest pleasure we are both of us on the right side of 30 sir let's enjoy ourselves what do you say to dining early and going to the play and trying great exhibition in Hyde Park tomorrow morning after breakfast if we only live like fighting cocks and go in perpetually for public amusements we shall arrive in no time at the men's sauna in Corpore Sano of the ancients don't be alarmed at the quotation sir I dabble a little in Latin after business hours and enlarge my sympathies by occasional perusal of the pagan writers assisted by a crib William dinner at five and as it's particularly important today I'll see to cook myself the evening passed the next day passed Thursday morning came and brought with it a letter for Alan the direction was in Mrs. Milroy's handwriting and the form of address adopted in the letter warned Alan the moment he opened it that something had gone wrong private the cottage Thorpe Ambrose Wednesday sir I have just received your mysterious letter it has more than surprised me it has really alarmed me after having made the friendliest advances to you on my side I find myself suddenly shut out from your confidence in the most unintelligible and I must add the most discourteous manner it is quite impossible that I can allow the matter to rest where you have left it the only conclusion that I can draw from your letter is that my confidence must have been abused in some way and that you know a great deal more than you are willing to tell me speaking in the interest of my daughter's welfare I request that you will inform me what the circumstances are which have prevented your seeing Mrs. Mandeville and which have led to the withdrawal of the assistance that you unconditionally promised me in your letter of Monday last in my state of health I cannot involve myself in a lengthened correspondence I must endeavor to anticipate any objections you may make and I must say all that I have to say in my present letter in the event which I am most unwilling to consider possible of your declining to exceed to the request that I have just addressed to you I beg to say that I shall consider it my duty to my daughter to have this very unpleasant matter cleared up if I don't hear from you to my full satisfaction by return of post I shall be obliged to tell my husband that circumstances have happened which justify us in immediately testing respectability of Miss Quill's reference and when he asks me for my authority I will refer him to you your obedient servant and Millroy in those terms the major's wife threw off the mask and left her victim to survey at his leisure the trap in which she had caught him Allen's belief in Mrs. Millroy's good faith had been so implicitly sincere that her letter simply bewildered him he saw vaguely that he had been deceived in some way and that Mrs. Millroy's neighbourly interest in him was not what it had looked on the surface and he saw no more the threat of appealing to the major on which with a woman's ignorance of the nature of men Mrs. Millroy had relied for producing its effect was the only part of the letter to which Allen reverted with any satisfaction it relieved him instead of alarming him if there is to be a quarrel he thought it will be a comfort at any rate to have it out with the man firm in his resolution to shield the unhappy woman whose secret he wrongly believed himself to have surprised Allen sat down to write his apologies to the major's wife after setting up three polite declarations in close marching order he retired from the field he was extremely sorry to have offended Mrs. Millroy he was innocent of all intention to offend Mrs. Millroy and he begged to remain Mrs. Millroy's truly never had Allen's habitual brevity as a letter writer done him better service than it did him now with a little more skillfulness in the use of his pen he might have given his enemy even a stronger hold on him than the whole she had got already the interval day passed and with the next morning's post Mrs. Millroy's threat came realized in the shape of a letter from her husband the major wrote less formally than his wife had written but his questions were mercilessly to the point private the cottage Thorpe Ambrose Friday July 11 1851 dear sir when you did me the favor of calling here a few days since you asked a question relating to my governess Ms. Guilt which I thought rather a strange one at the time and which caused as you may remember a momentary embarrassment between us this morning the subject of Ms. Guilt has been brought to my notice again in a manner which has caused me the utmost astonishment in plain words Mrs. Millroy has informed me that Ms. Guilt has exposed herself to the suspicion of having deceived us by a false reference on my expressing the surprise which such an extraordinary statement caused me and requesting that it might be instantly substantiated I was still further astonished by being told to apply for all particulars to no lesser person than Mr. Armadil I have fairly requested some further explanation from Mrs. Millroy she persists in maintaining silence and in referring me to yourself under these extraordinary circumstances I am compelled injustice to all parties to ask you certain questions which I will endeavour to put as plainly as possible and which I am quite ready to believe from my previous experience of you that you will answer frankly on your side I beg to inquire in the first place whether you admit or deny Mrs. Millroy's assertion that you have made yourself acquainted with particulars relating either to Ms. Guilt or to Ms. Guilt's reference of which I am entirely ignorant in the second place if you admit the truth of Mrs. Millroy's statement I request to know how you became acquainted with those particulars thirdly and lastly I beg to ask you what the particulars are if any special justification for putting these questions be needed which purely as a matter of courtesy toward yourself I am willing to admit I beg to remind you that the most precious charge in my house the charge of my daughter is confided to Ms. Guilt and that Mrs. Millroy's statement places you to all appearance in the position of being competent to tell me whether that charge is properly bestowed or not I have only to add that as nothing has thus far occurred to justify me in entertaining the slightest suspicion either of my governance or a reference I shall wait before I make any appeal to Ms. Guilt until I have received your answer which I shall expect by return of post believe me dear sir faithfully yours David Millroy this transparently straightforward letter that once dissipated the confusion which had thus far existed in Ellen's mind he saw the snare in which he had been caught though he was still necessarily at a loss to understand why it had been said for him as he had not seen it yet Mrs. Millroy had clearly placed him between two alternatives the alternative of putting himself in the wrong by declining to answer her husband's questions or the alternative of meanly sheltering his responsibility behind the responsibility of a woman by acknowledging to the mage's own face that the mage's wife had deceived him in this difficulty Ellen acted as usual without hesitation his pledge to Mrs. Millroy to consider that correspondence private still bound him disgracefully as she had abused it and his resolution was as immovable as ever to let no earthly consideration tempt him into betraying Ms. Guilt I may have behaved like a fool he thought but I won't break my word and I won't be the means of turning that miserable woman adrift in the world again he wrote to the mage as artlessly and briefly as he had written to the mage's wife he declared his unwillingness to cause a friend and neighbor any disappointment if he could possibly help it on this occasion he had no other choice the questions the mage asked him were questions which he could not consent to answer he was not very clever at explaining himself and he hoped he might be excused for putting it in that way and saying no more Monday's post brought with it major millroy's rejoinder and closed the correspondence the cottage Thorpe Ambrose Sunday sir your refusal to answer my questions and accompanied as it is by even the shadow of an excuse for such a proceeding can be interpreted but in one way besides being an implied acknowledgement of the correctness of Mrs. Millroy's statement it is also an implied reflection on my governess's character as an act of justice toward a lady who lives under the protection of my roof and who has given me no reason whatever to distrust her I shall now show our correspondence to Miss Guilt and I shall repeat to her the conversation which I had with Mrs. Millroy on the subject in Mrs. Millroy's presence one word more respecting the future relations between us and I have done my ideas on certain subjects are I dare say the ideas of an old-fashioned man in my time we had a code of honor by which we regulated our actions according to that code if a man made private inquiries into a lady's affairs without being either her husband her father or her brother he subjected himself to the responsibility of justifying his conduct in the estimation of others and if he faded that responsibility he abdicated the position of a gentleman it is quite possible that this antiquated way of thinking exists no longer but it's too late for me at my time of life to adopt more modern views I am scrupulously anxious seeing that we live in a country and a time in which the only court of honor is a police court to express myself with the utmost moderation of language upon this the last occasion that I shall have to communicate with you allow me therefore merely to remark that our ideas of the conduct which is becoming in a gentleman differ seriously and permit me on this account to request that you will consider yourself for the future as a stranger to my family and to myself your obedient servant David Millroy the Monday morning on which his client received the major's letter was the blackest morning that had yet been marked in pet gifts calendar when Alan's first angry sense of the tone of contempt in which his friend and neighbor pronounced sentence on him had subsided it left him sunk in a state of depression from which no efforts made by his traveling companion could rouse him for the rest of the day reverting naturally now that his sentence of banishment had been pronounced to his early intercourse with the cottage his memory went back to nearly more regretfully and more penitently than it had gone back to her yet if she had shut the door on me instead of her father was the bitter reflection with which Alan now reviewed the past I shouldn't have had a word to say against it I should have felt it served me right the next day brought another letter a welcome letter this time from Mr Brock Alan had written to Summersetcher on the subject of refitting the yard some day since the letter had found director engaged as he innocently supposed in protecting his old pupil against a woman whom he had watched in London and whom he now believed to have followed him back to his own home acting under the direction sent to her Mrs Aldershaw's housemate had completed the mystification of Mr Brock she had tranquilized all further anxiety on the director's part by giving him a written undertaking in the character of Miss Guilt engaging never to approach Mr Armadil either personally or by letter firmly persuaded that he had won the victory at last Paul Mr Brock answered Alan's notes in the highest spirits expressing some natural surprise at his leaving Thorpe Ambrose but readily promising that the yard should be refitted and offering the hospitality of the rectory in the heartiest manner this letter did wonders in raising Alan's spirits it gave him a new interest to look to entirely disassociated from his past life in Norfolk he began to count the days that were still to pass before the return of his absent friend it was then Tuesday if midwinter came back from his walking trip as he had engaged to come back in fortnight Saturday would find him at Thorpe Ambrose a note sent to meet the traveler might bring him to London the same night and if all went well before another week was over there might be a flow together in the yard the next day passed to Alan's relief without bringing any letters the spirits of pet gift rose sympathetically with the spirits of his client toward dinner time he reverted to the men's sauna in corpore sano of the ancients and issued his orders to the head waiter more royally than ever Thursday came and brought the fatal postman with more news from Norfolk a letter writer now stepped on the scene who had not appeared there yet and the total overthrow of all island's plans for a visit to Summersetcher was accomplished on the spot pet gift jr happened that morning to be the first at the breakfast table when Alan came in he relapsed into his professional manner and offered a letter to his patron with a bow performed in dreary silence for me inquired Alan shrinking instinctively from a new correspondent for you sir from my father replied pet gift enclosed in one to myself perhaps you will allow me to suggest by way of preparing you for for something a little unpleasant that we shall want a particularly good dinner today and if they're not performing any modern german music tonight I think we should do well to finish the evening melodiously at the opera something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose asked Alan yes mr. Armadil something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose Alan sat down resoundly and opened the letter private and confidential high street Thorpe Ambrose 17th july 1851 dear sir I cannot reconcile it with my sense of duty to your interest to leave you any longer in ignorance of reports current in this town and its neighborhood which I regret to say are reports affecting yourself of the first intimation of anything unpleasant reached me on Monday last it was widely rumored in the town that something had gone wrong at Major Milroy's with new governors and that mr. Armadil was mixed up in it I paid no heed to this believing it to be one of the many trumpery pieces of scandal perpetually said going here and as necessary as the air they breathe to the comfort of the inhabitants of this highly respectable place Tuesday however put the matter in a new light the most interesting particulars were circulated on the highest authority on Wednesday the gentry in the neighborhood took the matter up and universally sanctioned the views adopted by the town today the public feeling has reached its climax and I find myself under the necessity of making you acquainted with what has happened to begin at the beginning it is asserted that a correspondence took place last week between Major Milroy and yourself in which you cast a very serious suspicion on Miss Guil's respectability without defining your accusations and without on being applied to producing your proofs upon this the major appears to have felt at his duty while assuring his governance of his own firm belief in her respectability to inform her of what had happened in order that she might have no future reason to complain of his having had any concealments from her in a matter affecting her character fairy magnanimous on the major's part but you will see directly that Miss Guil was more magnanimous still after expressing her things in a most becoming manner she requested permission to withdraw herself from major milroy service fairy's reports are in circulation as to the governess's reason for taking this step the authorized version as sanctioned by the resident gentry represents Miss Guil to have said that she could not condescend injustice to herself and injustice to her highly respectable reference to defend her reputation against undefined imputations cast on it by a comparative stranger at the same time it was impossible for her to pursue such a cause of conduct as this unless she possessed a freedom of action which was quite incompatible with her continuing to occupy the dependent position of a governess for that reason she felt it incumbent on her to leave her situation but while doing this he was equally determined not to lead to any misinterpretation of her motives by leaving the neighborhood no matter at what inconvenience to herself she would remain long enough at Thorpe Ambrose to await any more definitely expressed imputations that might be made on her character and to repel them publicly the instant they assumed a tangible form such is the position which this high-minded lady has taken up with an excellent effect on the public mind in these parts it is clearly her interest for some reason to leave her situation without leaving the neighborhood on one day last she established herself in a cheap lodging on the outskirts of the town and on the same day she probably wrote to her reference for yesterday there came a letter from that lady to major millroy full of virtuous indignation and courting the fullest inquiry the letter has been shown publicly and has immensely strengthened miss quill's position she is now considered to be quite a heroine the Thorpe Ambrose Mercury has got a leading article about her comparing her to Joan of Arc it is considered probable that she will be referred to in the sermon next Sunday we reckon five strong-minded single ladies in this neighborhood and all five have called on her a testimonial was suggested but it has been given up at miss quill's own request and a general movement is now on foot to get her employment as a teacher of music lastly i have had the honor of a visit from the lady herself in her capacity of martyr to tell me in the sweetest manner that she doesn't blame mr armadil and that she considers him to be an innocent instrument in the hands of other and more designing people i was carefully on my guard with her for i don't altogether believe in miss quill's and i have my lawyer's suspicions of the motive that is at the bottom of her present proceedings i have written thus far my dear sir with little hesitation or embarrassment but there is unfortunately a serious side to this business as well as a ridiculous side and i must unwillingly come to it before i close my letter it is i think quite impossible that you can permit yourself to be spoken of as you are spoken of now without stirring personally in the matter you have unluckily made many enemies here and foremost among them is my colleague mr dutch he has been showing everywhere a somewhat rashly expressed letter you wrote to him on the subject of letting the cottage to major millroy instead of to himself and it has helped to exasperate the feeling against you it is roundly stated in so many words that you have been prying into miss quill's family affairs with the most dishonorable motives that you have tried for a profligate purpose of your own to damage her reputation and to deprive her of the protection of major millroy's roof and that after having been asked to substantiate by proof the suspicions that you have cast on the reputation of a defenseless woman you have maintained a silence which condemned you in the estimation of all honorable women i hope it is quite unnecessary for me to say that i don't attach the smallest particle of credit to these infamous reports but they are too widely spread and too widely believed to be treated with contempt i strongly urge you to return at once to this place and to take the necessary measures for defending your character in concert with me as your legal advisor i have formed since my interview with miss quill's a very strong opinion of my own on the subject of that lady which it is not necessary to commit to paper suffice it to say here that i shall have a means to propose to you for silencing the slanderous tongues of your neighbors on the success of which i stake my professional reputation if you will only back me by your presence and authority it may perhaps help to show you the necessity there is for your return if i mention one other assertion respecting yourself which is in everybody's mouth your absence is i regret to tell you attributed to the meanest of all motives it is said that you are remaining in london because you are afraid to show your face at thawb embrose believe me dear sir your faithful servant a pet gift senior ellen was of an age to feel the sting contained in the last sentence of his lawyer's letter he started to his feet in a paroxysm of indignation which revealed his character to pet gift junior in an entirely new light where's the timetable cried ellen i must go back to thawb embrose by the next train if it doesn't start directly i'll have a special engine i must and will go back instantly and i don't care too strong for the expense suppose we telegraphed to my father sir suggested the judicious pet gift it's the quickest way of expressing your feelings and the cheapest so it is said ellen thank you for reminding me of it telegraph to them tell your father to give every man in thawb embrose the lie direct in my name put it in capital letters pet gift put it in capital letters pet gift smiles on sugar's head if he was acquainted with no other variety of human nature he thoroughly knew the variety that exists in country towns it won't have the least effect on them mr armadil he remarked quietly they'll only go on lying harder than ever if you want to upset the whole town one line will do it with five shillings worth of human labor and electric fluid so i doubled a little in science after business hours will explode a bombshell in thawb embrose he produced the bombshell on a slip of paper as he spoke a pet gift junior to a pet gift senior spread it all over the place that mr armadil is coming down by the next train more words suggested ellen looking over his shoulder make it stronger leave my father to make it stronger sir returned the wary pet gift my father is on the spot and his command of language is something quite extraordinary he rang the bell and dispatched the telegram now that something had been done ellen subsided gradually into a state of composure he looked back again at mr pet gift's letter and then handed it to mr pet gift son can you guess your father's plan for setting me right in the neighborhood he asked pet gift the younger shook his wise head his plan appears to be connected in some way sir with his opinion of miss guild i wonder what he thinks of her said ellen i shouldn't be surprised mr armadil returned pet gift junior leave his opinion staggers you a little when you come to hear it my father has had a large legal experience of the shady side of the sex and he learned his profession at the old bailey ellen made no further inquiries he seemed to shrink from pursuing the subject after having started it himself let's be doing something to kill the time he said let's pick up and pay the bill they picked up and paid the bill the hour came and the train left for norfolk at last while the travelers were on their way back but somewhat longer telegraphic message than ellens was flashing its way past them along the wires in the reverse direction from thorb embrose to london the message was in cypher and the signs being interpreted it ran thus from lydia guilds to mariah old ashore good news he is coming back i mean to have an interview with him everything looks well now i have left to cottage i have no women's prying eyes to dread and i can come and go as i please mr medwinter is luckily out of the way i don't despair of becoming mrs armadil yet whatever happens depend on my keeping away from london until i am certain of not taking any spies after me to your place i am in no hurry to leave thorb embrose i mean to be even with miss millroy first shortly after that message was received in london ellen was back again in his own house it was evening pet gift junia had just left him and pet gift senior was expected to call on business in half an hour's time end of chapter four